Original subtitles

- The name of the game is "Mafia."

♪ ♪

Was there a syllabus I was supposed to read?

- He just needs you to explain the rules.

- Don Ridley, you have been going

to Tina Brown's game night for years.

Are you telling me you never played Mafia?

Do you still work for "Vanity Fair"?

- Uh, sometimes "VF," sometimes "GQ."

- Oh, everyone wants a piece of Don Ridley.

Okay, quick rules refresher.

You have all chosen either "T" for "townsperson,"

or "M" for "murderer."

Each round, the murderer will kill someone,

and the townspeople must root out who he or she is.

Now, heads down. Eyes closed.

Murderer awaken. Choose your prey.

♪ ♪

Thank you, murderer, head down.

Townspeople, you may wake up.

While you were sleeping, Zane was brutally murdered.

- Oh.

- Now figure out who did it.

- I think that it was Liza. - I think Kelsey's drunk.

- Yeah, how do we know it wasn't you, Peters?

- Can you please go get me another glass of wine?

Okay, Liza already killed you. - I didn't.

And no one's seconded.

- Liza's lying.

I can tell.

Well, it is a game. Isn't it?

I mean, it could be anybody. It could be you.

- Oh, so I accuse you, then you accuse me.

That is textbook guilty behavior.

- Kelsey accused me first. And I did not accuse her.

- The killer would stay off the radar.

Let someone else accuse, and then pounce.

Like you did.

- You sound paranoid.

And guilty.

- Other townspeople can weigh in.

- But let's assume you're right.

If Kelsey is the killer,

wouldn't she have thought of that?

- No, she's right. I'm...kind of drunk.

- Uh, plus, we all heard your cufflink clink your glass

when you pointed at Zane.

I heard it.

Uh, is anyone else even wearing cufflinks?

- There was no sound.

This is-- - Ah, he's turning red.

Seconded.

He's so guilty.

Sorry, Charles. - Okay, all right.

Enough debate. We have two nominees.

Now, just remember that whoever you vote to accuse...

...dies.

So, who thinks it was Charles?

- Ooh.

- Oh, wow. And who votes Liza?

Charles, you are dead. Oh, okay.

So were you a townsperson or a murderer?

- Townsperson.

The murderer is still at large.

- Okay, heads down. Eyes closed.

If you have been killed, you can keep your eyes open.

Murderer awaken, choose your victim.

♪ ♪

- So no sex for 90 days, like, at all?

- I don't know, I just feel like I have to do a full reset.

No sex, no alcohol, maybe no gluten.

- I-I don't know, I just feel like there's steps

that you skipped over that are less Amish than this.

- Amish.

- Hey, I'm gonna tie up my dog here while I use the head.

Is that okay?

Come here, good boy. Come here.

Come here. What's your name?

Oh, hi, Hawkeye.

- Soak it up. Those are the last face licks

you're getting this year. - Shut up.

Hi, where's your dad going, huh?

- Ew. Water?

Yeah.

- When you left, you were going to get me wine.

- When I left, you were upright.

- Well...

I'd rather take a nap here than on the train.

- You can crash at mine

if you don't wanna go back to Brooklyn.

What? What?

- Nothing.

It's just we haven't really spoken since D.C.

I said "crash," not "smash."

- They're synonymous. - That is presumptuous.

- I'll think about it.

- Well, don't think too long.

- I'll think about it for five minutes.

And then I'll meet you there.

Go, go, go, before I change my mind.

- Solid Mafia skills.

I need a date for Tina Brown's next week.

Just don't write down anyone's name who's actually there.

Tobey Maguire ruined that for everybody.

Um, never played.

But, you should ask Diana.

She's, uh-- she's great at Celebrity.

- Looks like her dance card is full.

So, is it a date?

- Uh, I'm not really dating right now.

Long story.

- Mm, yep.

Last shot.

The "People" Ones to Watch party is tomorrow.

Don't think of it as dating.

It's...plus-one-ing.

- Liza.

Can I see you in-- in the powder room, please?

- Gotta go. Nice to meet you...Don.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Oh.

Oh, my God.

Oh, uh, okay.

Okay, I'll get a plumber in here.

You just--you just get back to those men you were talking to.

- Carder and Aaron left. Together.

This party, like my marriage, is too gay for its own good.

I am officially euthanizing it. - No. No, no, no. You can't.

It's still early.

- You will realize this once you're old enough

to rent a car, but one day, men won't just fall into your lap.

You have to put in an effort. And it is exhausting.

- No, sorry, you are not giving up

when there is a room full of eligible straight men.

Now, go. It's just a clogged toilet.

It happens all the time.

- I checked the kitchen,

the dumpsters, the bathroom.

I didn't see that Murray Hill douchebag anywhere.

And they literally locked the door behind me.

- Well, we can't just leave him here.

Hey, you wanna come bunk with me or what?

- I just wanna remind you, the last time you picked up

a stray, you married her.

Thank you for reminding me.

I really appreciate that.

God. - He's cute.

Guys, come on, come on, come on.

- Hey, come on. - Come on.

It's about time.

I've been waiting forever for...

Enzo. Hello, uh--

- Hey.

Bathroom still in the same place?

Yeh...yeah.

♪ ♪

- It's an easy fix. 15, 20 minutes tops.

- Yeah, well, no rush.

Can I get you a drink? I just had a party.

- Yeah, your, uh, toilet told me.

I'm good.

- So, how--um--how-- how've you been?

You don't have to do that.

You disappeared over a year ago.

I got the hint. - I didn't, I--okay.

I did. I'm sorry. Um...

...sorry.

I assumed you had plenty of...

I don't usually--

- Oh, I know, we both said that many times,

very convincingly.

- I meant it.

You know, I was gonna ask you out, but you stopped answering,

so...

- Well, I was seeing someone.

- Ah.

- But now I'm not, so...

- I guess you're out of excuses.

- I guess I am.

- Okay.

- I'll pick you up.

♪ ♪

- ♪ Yeah, aye ♪

- ♪ Shoot ♪ - ♪ Yeah, aye ♪

- Okay, you have a budget meeting at 2:00,

followed by the YA presentation with publicity at 3:30.

And then that call with the Whitney board right after.

You got all that? - Not a word.

That's why I have you. And who is this for?

- Liza Miller.

- Gotta be kidding me.

Don Ridley?

I throw a party to meet men, and you get a date out of it.

- Oh, a man just fell into Liza's lap.

She's going to the "People" Ones to Watch party.

Typical.

- It is typical that men in their forties

just want women in their twenties, right?

- Diana, I'm not going.

- Do I need to pedal you there myself in a pedicab?

- You should go. It's a fun party.

Uh, bring Tupperware.

- Uh, what's that supposed to mean?

- Oh, at Diana's,

when he thought that nobody was looking,

I saw Don stuff a pork chop into his pocket.

- Yeah. Pork chop.

Pocket.

Have fun.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

- Okay, uh... - Oh.

- Since I have interviewed half of these people here,

you can pick one celeb for me to introduce you to.

If it's Martha Stewart, we should do it now

before they bring out the Jaeger luge.

- Why don't you introduce me to you?

All I know about you is your writing.

And that you were born in Pittsburgh.

- You googled me. Feels like a date move.

Well, as your plus-one,

I did brush up on your work.

Your piece on Rwanda in "The Atlantic"

was even better the second time.

- Wow. Usually my dates just skim my interview

with Jen Aniston and pivot to Brangelina

the rest of the night.

- Good thing I'm not one of your dates.

- Yeah. Good thing.

Walk this way.

- You really don't like that train ride to Brooklyn, do you?

- You were wearing a different shirt earlier.

- I, uh, spilled something.

- You don't spill.

- Yeah.

Do you have a date?

- I have drinks with a junior editor as Knopf.

- Synonymous.

- Presumptuous.

It's none of my business.

I'm just gonna keep reading my book.

- Mm, weren't you, uh, reading the other one?

- I like to read a few at a time.

I assume that's okay with you?

- Eh.

None of my business.

- It'd be a lot easier to impress you

with my celebrity friends if you knew who half of them were.

All right, who's that?

- He's trying to buy an entire floor of Trump Tower

to house a super PAC to elect Michelle Obama to Congress.

- It's purely out of spite.

But he's got funding from Rosie O'Donnell.

- When's this article coming out?

- Oh, I could write a thousand pages on that guy.

He's nuts.

- Well, when you have a book idea,

you know where to bring it.

Seriously. I'll pitch it tomorrow.

And it's not just about him. It's all of elite Manhattan.

It's crazier than you can imagine.

- Okay.

Come pitch it tomorrow.

4:00 okay?

- 4:00 is great.

Ooh, sushi.

Follow me.

♪ ♪

- I just... I can't believe somebody can be this shitty.

Now, who would do this to a dog?

Look at him. - I know, I know.

He is an actual angel, but

you know we can't have pets in the building.

- Yeah, well, we can't have three roommates either.

We just won't tell the landlord now, will we?

- Rude. Okay, but thank you.

- Hawkeye. Oh, my God.

Where did you find him?

- Uh, some dude just left him tied up

outside of a restaurant.

- Ugh, my ex. Such a prick.

- Here.

Hey, bye, little dude.

I'm gonna miss you.

- You love the hot stranger, don't you?

Don't you?

- I got him some toys too,

if you wanna go grab them.

They're, uh, back at my apartment.

- It's actually, um-- it's our apartment.

We live there together. But--ah--okay, no, no.

Sorry--no, never mind. Yeah.

- ♪ Go ♪

♪ ♪

- Hawkeye. - Hawkeye, no.

- ♪ Don't go so slow ♪

- Shut up. You know Pippa Middleton?

- One flight, five hours,

several mini bottles of tequila.

She told me her sister was dating somebody famous.

I wrote it down.

- Wait, wait, you broke the Will and Kate story?

- Don. Charles Brooks.

- Uh.

Cufflinks.

I heard you have quite a book idea.

- Ee-- - Please.

- Um, okay, let's dive in.

Um, this book is about all the dirty, sexy messes

of Manhattan society--

ambassadors, bankers, not the boring ones.

Disgraced, famous.

Um, Madoffs--

- So is this a novel or is it nonfiction?

- I was thinking the latter.

- Huh.

Well, that could be problematic.

- Can we at least hear the idea?

- Yeah, these are very litigious, very wealthy people.

But, uh, continue. Sorry.

- Oh, I was thinking about framing the story

around drama at the Trump Tower.

It's a bloodbath, but also a microcosm

of what's going on in the rest of America.

- That's, uh--that sounds like a completely different book.

And readers are starting to tire of polemics.

♪ ♪

Uh, the Monica Lewinsky scandal is 20 this year.

Uh, our first victim of cyber-bullying

before we even knew what to call it.

She's a friend.

The '90s are hot again. OJ, Tonya Harding--

- Right, the--the '90s is also when most of

Millennial's readers were born.

Uh, I have to jump on a conference call,

but, uh, it has been a pleasure.

♪ ♪

- Ugh.

- Don.

Can you give us a minute?

Uh, bathroom?

- He knows.

- About me.

All of it.

God, Liza. How?

- I don't know.

- Not yet.

So, what, he's just gonna punish you

and just tank every author you bring in here?

This is such a mess.

How are we supposed to do our job?

- I'll handle it.

♪ ♪

- Uh, a little busy right now. - I'll be quick.

I'm resigning.

- Close the door, please.

What're you doing?

- This isn't going to work. You're angry with me.

And you're not gonna like any writer that I bring in here.

That's going to hobble Millennial

and probably ruin Kelsey's career too.

And that's not fair to anyone, so I'm bowing out.

- The only thing threatening Millennial

is the lie you've been telling since you got here.

- You can be mad at me. I deserve that.

But you can't take it out on a writer I bring in here.

- It's not what I did.

- No, uh, personal would be asking if--

if Don dropped a trail of breadcrumbs from his pocket,

in case you got separated at the "People" party,

but passing on a half-baked, poorly-conceived book idea

I didn't like, that's-- that's business.

And I trust you can see the distinction.

- I do. - Excellent.

Please close the door on your way out.

♪ ♪

- Hi.

- I gave him back to his owner,

after I slept with her.

- Yes. You broke your fast. Let me get you a drink.

- Oh, Mags, I-- - No, no, no, no, no, come on.

90 days without booze or sex?

I haven't done that since grade school.

You don't need to reset your system.

You just need to have a good glass of red wine,

and someone to complain about girls to.

- Fine, but no gluten.

Turns out I really do have that allergy.

- That is not real.

And I just smoked a big joint

and ate all the bread in the house, so you're good.

God, you make everything better.

♪ ♪

- It's 6:00. I don't see him.

Well, good night. - Oh, no, no, no.

You are going on this date. A man fell on your lap.

- Do you always use people's words against them

like a drunk toddler?

Oh, my God, I'm going on a date with my plumber.

- Phew.

Sorry for honking.

I'm driving around for a half hour

and the only spot I could find is illegal.

- When you said that you were picking me up,

I--I--I thought you meant on foot .

- There's no good Italian food up here.

- In Manhattan. Come on.

♪ ♪

Anyone else?

- Just Kelsey. She was upset at first, but...

- So you've both been lying to me?

- We thought it was best for the company.

And we didn't want anyone else at Empirical

to have to lie too.

- Ah, how thoughtful of you to spare us all that indignity.

- I'm gonna go.

Have a good night.

- Liza, wait. J--please.

I should apologize for crashing your meeting.

Uh, I--I am trying to find my way around all this,

and I, uh-- I took it out on Don.

And that wasn't fair.

You're good at your job.

Millennial needs you to survive right now.

And I--I don't wanna jeopardize that.

And that's all I wanted to say.

Good night.

- Please, just let me explain.

Maybe if you get to know me.

The real me.

- I--I don't think that's a good idea.

- I'm so sorry that I lied to you.

I just--I care about you so much.

I--I need you to know that.

- And I need you to forget about it.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

- This restaurant is lovely.

- Try to sound less surprised.

- I'm sorry, it's just-- - Staten Island.

We've got nice places too. You just never tried 'em.

Amy, we didn't order that.

- Compliments of Mr. De Rosa.

♪ ♪

- No, nothing.

Just, the other night at my party we played Mafia.

And now...

- Okay, two things.

One, don't say that out loud again.

And two, Mr. D is on the City Council.

- But, I mean, you-- you did something for him?

- Yeah, I put new copper pipes in his summer house.

Turned it around quick so he could throw a campaign event.

♪ ♪

- Exquisite. Who sent this over?

- I did.

- I can't let you buy that for me.

That is a $500 bottle.

- I know. I'm trying to impress you.

First date. Don't get used to it.

♪ ♪

- We should've ordered second entrées.

Maxed out the Empirical expense account.

Those things are relics.

Oh, thank you. - Didn't go through.

Would you like to try another card?

- Uh, okay.

Uh... Just...

- Yeah.

- Thank you.

- Shit.

This is embarrassing. I guess I'm a relic too.

You write for "Vanity Fair."

And "Vogue." - Wrote.

Past tense.

Magazines are dying even faster than books.

This is what I write now.

- "You won't believe which of these sexy stars is trans."

Is he? - Nope.

But you have to click through 19 photos and 6 ads

to find that out.

I'm barely pulling in what I made in my twenties.

- But you're out at A-list parties every night.

- Free food. Open bar.

Gift bags. .

Oh, God.

- Well, look, none of us is exactly who we say we are.

I've been there. I'll get dinner.

- No, I can't. It is too pathetic.

There's a 20. - Hey.

- Uh, this gift card has $14.

And for the tip.

Solid hustle. - Yeah.

Could we go, before she realizes that her tip

is only half a latte?

- No, I'm serious. I feel bad.

Okay. - Phone, wallet, purse, go.

Casual, casual, nothing's wrong.

Everything's wrong. Go. - Okay, ah!

- She's coming. She does not look happy.

It's all right. Thank you.

- Oh, God.

- Okay, well, we can't end the night like that.

Let's see. Uh...oh.

There's a Cinema Society premiere.

I am, uh, on Andrew Saffir's list.

- Uh, it doesn't matter.

The alcohol's top shelf and the food's great.

Are you in?

- I'm in.

[Bleachers' "Everybody Lost Somebody" playing]

- ♪ Take my clothes, I'm begging ♪

♪ ♪

♪ Everybody lost somebody ♪

♪ ♪